


Somnia

by ClericOfIstus



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClericOfIstus/pseuds/ClericOfIstus
Summary: The morning was overcast, gray, and dreary as Bill Dewey walked up the boardwalk to work. A harsh, unseasonably chilly wind blew and a thick layer of fog blanketed everything.





	Somnia

The morning was overcast, gray, and dreary as Bill Dewey walked up the boardwalk to work. A harsh, unseasonably chilly wind blew and a thick layer of fog blanketed everything. Dewey wrapped his arms around himself to try to banish the chill and wondered at the strange weather. However odd the weather was, it didn't seem to be bothering the other residents of Beach City busily going about their usual morning routines. Dewey saw Arnold Fryman getting the fry shop ready to open for the morning.

“Morning, Arnold,” Dewey said, peeking through the open order window, “Crazy weather we're having this morning, huh?'

Fryman looked up from the napkin dispenser he was busy filling at the sound of Dewey's voice. He turned to face him. Fryman didn't say a word, he just glared furiously at him. The undisguised fury in Fryman's expression left a sour, uneasy feeling settling in Dewey's stomach as Fryman stalked toward the window and pulled it shut.

“Oh...kay, you're not in the mood to talk this morning, I guess...”, Dewey said, trying to brush off the odd interaction, but finding it difficult while Fryman still glared daggers at him from the other side of the window.

Dewey turned and continued on his way. He saw Kofi, just a few feet down the sidewalk busily cleaning the front window of his restaurant. “Hey there, Kofi. How are you doing?” he greeted cheerfully. “Say, is something going on with Arnold? He's acting kind of weird this morning.”

Kofi didn't answer, he just stopped cleaning and stepped back from the window. The look that Kofi leveled at him could only be described as disgust; pure, complete repulsion. Without even speaking a word to him, Kofi walked into his restaurant, leaving Dewey standing bewildered in the street.

This strange interaction with Kofi had done nothing to alleviate Dewey's growing sense of uneasiness, quite the opposite, really. Dewey couldn't imagine why either Fryman or Kofi were behaving in such an unusually hostile way. The two of them had been known to fight occasionally, but their feuds had always been just between them, they had never actively drawn other people into them. Had something else happened then? Had...had he done something to upset them? As Dewey thought back on his recent interactions with them, he couldn't think of anything he'd done that would cause offense...but they did both seem fine until he'd tried to talk to them. He tried to brush the thought away, but as he continued on his way to work, Dewey couldn't quite shake the worry that he had, unknowingly, done something wrong. This worry occupied his mind so much that he didn't see Greg Universe coming up the sidewalk in front of him until he walked straight into him.

“Oh, god. Sorry, Greg. I should have been paying more attention. Are you alright?” Dewey launched himself into damage control mode, hoping that this would go better than the rest of his attempts at engaging with other people had this morning.

Greg, however, didn't answer him. He just scowled at Dewey, giving him a look of rank hatred that was so completely alien an expression on Greg Universe that Dewey could barely make sense of it. So he didn't try to make sense of it. Having reached the limit of his tolerance for whatever was going on this morning, Dewey just took off in a dead run up the street and didn't stop until he put a block of distance between himself and Greg.

When he came to a stop, Dewey leaned against a stop sign for a moment to catch his breath. Just at that moment, Jamie came walking up the street. He strode past the stop sign where Dewey was resting and stopped at a house just past it. Dewey was honestly relieved for the first time all morning. He walked up to Jamie just as he was putting some letters in the mailbox.

“Jamie, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you. I mean...I'm pretty much always happy to see you, but, after the way things have been going this morning, you are a particularly welcome sight.” Dewey said.

Jamie didn't say anything. Didn't even turn around and acknowledge that Dewey was there. He just walked on to the next house and began sorting through his mailbag for things to deliver. Dewey was stunned. He crossed over to the next mailbox and laid his hand on Jamie's shoulder.

“Jamie, come on, this isn't funny. Please, tell me what's going on.” Dewey pleaded in a quiet tone.

Jaime still remained silent. He just lightly tugged his shoulder out of Dewey's grasp and continued on his route, leaving a, once more, shocked and confused Dewey standing on the sidewalk.

Dewey could feel a hot, prickly heat rising up in his throat that made it difficult to breathe. Everything else this morning had been odd or maybe even a little frightening, but this? This hurt. Because this was Jamie – not Jamie trying to hurt him or even treating him with any kind of overt hostility; but Jamie ignoring him. Acting as if he didn't notice him at all, or maybe as if he weren't worth noticing. Somehow, drawing the ire of everyone else in town he'd encountered had stung, but Jaime refusing to speak to him, or even look at him – that was so much worse it didn't even compare. Dewey looked back to Jamie and saw the he was well up the street, at least a block away already.

“Jamie, wait,” Dewey called after him. Jamie didn't wait, didn't look back, just carried on with his business. “Please, just tell me what I did wrong. I want to fix this.” Seized by a sudden impulse, Dewey ran up the street after Jamie. To catch him? To try to talk to him again? He wasn't really sure at this point. He sprinted up the block, but just as he was about to catch up to Jamie, something caught his foot and tripped him. Dewey put out his hands to try to brace himself...

*

Dewey's eyes flew open and he was lying in his own bed. His throat still felt tight and his heart was beating so fast it was almost as if he had actually just been running. It was still the middle of the night, if the pale, silvery moonlight streaming down through the curtains was anything to go by. He sat up and looked over at the clock, and sure enough it read 2:30. He put his hand over his eyes and took a few deep breaths to try to get his heart to calm down a little.

“Bill?” Jamie asked groggily, sitting up next to him, “What's going on?”

“Oh, it's nothing.” Dewey answered, evasively, “I'm sorry I woke you up.”

“If it's nothing, why are you awake at 2:30 in the morning?” Jamie drew one arm around Dewey's shoulders, “Come on, please tell me what's wrong.” he urged gently.

“It really isn't a big deal, I just had a bit of a bad dream is all. I really am sorry I woke you up, I didn't mean to do that.”

  
“Bad dream, huh? What was it about?” Jamie asked. Dewey opened his mouth to answer but he couldn't, the words seemed to be caught in his throat. He futilely opened and closed his mouth again when Jamie said in a soft tone, “Hey, it's alright, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Just, please, tell me if there's any way I can help you.”

Dewey hesitated. He honestly felt like he had bothered Jamie more than enough already. It was really just a dumb nightmare, it really shouldn't bother him as much as it had. But, at the same time, Jamie's offer of help felt so wonderfully welcome.

“Could...would it be possible for you to just sit here with me for a few minutes?” Dewey asked.

“I can absolutely do that.” Jamie said. He took his arm from Dewey's shoulder and wrapped it around his waist. He brought his other arm around and draped his hand over Dewey's, interlacing their fingers together and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Dewey gave a small, contented sigh and leaned back against Jamie.

In truth, he was really feeling a lot better already. Jamie's warm, solid, and very real presence was going a long way toward chasing away the phantom terror of nightmares.

“Thanks Jamie, I think I'm ready to try to sleep again.” Dewey said after they had been sitting this way for a few minutes.

“Alright, if you're sure,” Jamie said, planting a soft kiss on Dewey's neck and then laying back down.

Dewey felt a rush of warmth rise up in his cheeks. He was always taken by surprise by the easy, casual affection that Jamie gave so freely. Dewey lay down beside Jamie, slipping an arm around his waist, and drifted into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
